


keep me breathing

by tgrsndshrks



Series: sibling verse [2]
Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Collars, Come Shot, Comeplay, Incest, M/M, Nude Photos, Panties, Pillow Fights, Rimming, Sibling Incest, a really inordinate amount of sibling bickering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 08:17:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7794271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tgrsndshrks/pseuds/tgrsndshrks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Has there ever been a day in my life that you haven't spent absolutely torturing me?” Tim asks.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>“You had the three years before I was born,” John says, grinning.</i>
</p>
<p>or, they're still siblings and john still enjoys making tim's life miserable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep me breathing

**Author's Note:**

> it's another fic in the sibling universe!! amazing!! do i ever have an excuse for this shit.
> 
> shouts outs to julia devon and zahra
> 
> i purposely left this open for another fic in case i feel like it but don't hold me to it. i have 8 other fic ideas on my list
> 
> title from the song brother by gerard way. i'm sorry.

_guess what ur fave little brother got in the mail today_

Tim is staring down at his phone, reading the text over and over. His teacher is lecturing, a dull static noise he's not really paying attention to. The text is from John. Tim is much more interested in John. He considers it briefly, knowing he should take down the rest of these notes. Tim goes to pocket his phone again, really considers ignoring John's text till after class, but it's John. He can't ignore John.

_What'd you get?_

Tim turns the phone over, sets it screen down on his thigh, and goes for his pen to continue copying the whiteboard, but it buzzes again almost instantly. He hesitates, holding the phone against his leg for a few long seconds, before turning it back over.

_you have to guess._

Tim sighs to himself.

_I really don't know babe. Is it guitar stuff? I'm in class._

Tim watches the little bubble, the three dots fading in and out, waiting as John types. When Tim's phone vibrates again, it's not a text. It's a photo, of John's neck, craned back to show the collar he's wearing. It's black leather, detailed with little ribbon bows and spikes, with big metal letters on John's throat reading _SLUT_. Tim shoves his knuckle in his mouth and bites down, stifling the swear that threatens to slip out. Fucking hell. John's shoulder is bare, too, and Tim stares at the photo for entirely too long before he realizes the dark fabric behind John in the picture is his sheets.

_What the fuck are you doing in my room you asshole_

_please. I get a nice pretty collar to wear for you and you call me an asshole?_

Tim sighs. He swipes back up to look at the photo again, and fuck, it is a pretty collar. He looks up at his teacher, who's still lecturing, before leaning back in his chair and typing.

_That's not the point. You're in my room. Get out of my room._

_but i'm waiting for you._

_I have fifteen minutes of class left you can wait for me in your own room_

John doesn't respond right away, and for a moment, Tim thinks he's safe. He puts his phone to the side and starts writing notes again. Not ten seconds later it's buzzing again, and Tim grabs it quickly to keep it from rattling loudly against the table.

It's another photo, and this one's a little wider shot, with John's lipstick ringed mouth and two fingers between his lips visible in the top half. The collar's there, too, still, the slur looking cold and silver against John's throat. Tim squints at it, stares at John's mouth.

_Oh my god. Were you in my fucking lipstick?_

_yep. what you gonna do about it._

_I should tell mom about the vodka stash in your closet_

_I'd just tell her you bought it for me_

Tim sighs at his phone.

_I'll be home soon enough, okay? Just wait there for me and keep being cute._

What Tim gets back isn't a text message, just a photo. It takes him a moment to figure out what it is, but when he sees it, he clenches his jaw. It's the flat expanse of John's hips, and his hip bones jut out enough that the waistband of his panties stretch between them like a bridge, never touching his stomach. Tim rests his forehead in his hand, staring at the photo under the table, ignoring the part of him that wants to ditch out of class early just to get back to John that much sooner.

_I am going to kill you with my bare hands when I get home_

Tim fully intends to keep his promise. Really does. But John doesn't seem to care. He doesn't give him a verbal response this time either, rather a photo taken over his shoulder with his panties half down his ass, white skin showing through the lace, and Tim just sighs. John's just torturing him at this point. Tim closes his notebook, shoves it in his bag, and slips out of class wordlessly.

Tim's phone buzzes at least twice on his drive home.

When he opens the door to his room, he doesn't knock. John starts, eyes darting up from his phone, bolting upright. He softens when he sees it's Tim, bites into his lips.

“You're early,” John says. He doesn't bother to cover up despite his wearing nothing but panties. And that collar.

“Yeah,” Tim says, hastily locking the door behind him. “You can thank yourself for that.” He throws his bag on the floor and takes his jacket off, tossing it over the back of his desk chair. “If I fail an exam you can pay for me to retake the semester,” Tim remarks, as he's wrangling with the zippers on his boots to get them off.

“Bullshit,” John says, setting his phone aside. “C'mere.”

“Fucking hell,” Tim says, taking a big step over and grabbing John by his hair, wrenching his head back. “Let me see this.” John allows Tim to guide his head by his hair, craning his neck to get a look at the collar, at the spikes and ribbons as well as the metal letters. “ _SLUT_ ,” Tim reads. “I think you made a good choice.”

“I knew you'd like it,” John purrs, shifting his weight under Tim's grip on his hair. “I wanted to surprise you.” Tim hooks his fingers under the collar, pulls John up to kiss him, tasting lipstick.

“You just know me too well,” Tim says. John nods, smiles, lets Tim push him into the bed and climb on top of him.

“Yeah, only for my whole life,” John remarks.

“God, don't remind me you're my little brother when I'm about to rail you into this bed,” Tim says, even as he's undoing his belt.

“Why not?” John asks, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. “You don't think it's kinda hot? Like, just confirming the fact that it's fucked up.” Tim rolls his eyes.

“Has there ever been a day in my life that you haven't spent absolutely torturing me?” Tim asks.

“You had the three years before I was born,” John says, grinning.

“I wish you _hadn't_ been born,” Tim says, grabbing John's cock through the panties, a little too tight to be pleasurable. John gasps, keens, body tensing at the contact.

“You're so full of shit,” John says, voice breathy as he dicks up into Tim's fist. Tim works him through his panties, grip still tight, the lace probably digging into John's skin. He decides not to warrant that with a response – he'll just give John a nice elbow jab in his bony ribs when he tries to share the basement couch with him later. Tim sits back on his legs, letting go long enough to take his shirt off, before reaching back down with the same hand, pushing John's legs apart. His fingers go to slide over his ass, to feel at it through the lace, but Tim stops. There's already something there. He can feel it through the panties, hard and smooth. Glass. Tim stills, looks at John, who's biting his lips together, looking at Tim expectantly for his response.

“John,” Tim says, voice even. “Do you want to explain to me what this is.”

“It's a surprise,” John says.

“When did you get this?” Tim asks.

“I ordered it with the collar,” John says.

“How long has it been here?”

“What time did I text you?”

“Oh my fucking god,” Tim says. He sits back on the bed, legs coming out from under him. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh my god. I cannot believe you were wearing a plug this whole fucking time.”

“Is that okay?” John asks, sitting up a bit.

“God, yes, of course it is,” Tim says, reaching forward to grab John's panties. He pulls them down and tosses them to the side before grabbing John by the hips, roughly turning him over and pushing him down into the bed. Tim pulls his hips back up and John looks back at Tim as he finally gets a proper look. The glass is clear and spreads John open, fills him unforgivingly. Tim has to push his hair back out of his eyes and stare for a moment. “I'm gonna take it out,” he says.

“Okay,” John says. The glass is a bit slippery with lube, and it takes a moment for Tim to get a good grip, but he finally does, pulling enough that John starts to stretch open again to let go of the widest part of the toy. His ass gives it up easily, and he stays open, open enough that Tim could easily slide into him without a second to prepare him.

“Holy fuck,” Tim says.

“Do you like it?” John asks. Tim responds by easing it back in, and John whines into the pillow as the toy slips home.

“Yeah, fuck,” Tim says. He pushes on the glass base with the heel of his hand, pressing it hard into John's ass.

“Fuck!” John gasps, hands grabbing at the sheets. Tim pushes again, starts kind of fucking him with it, the glass surely pressed up against that really good spot. John keens. “Stop, stop.” Tim does, hands smoothing down his shaky thighs.

“You alright?” Tim asks.

“Yeah,” John says, turning back to face Tim. “Just... too much.” Tim nods, his fingers gripping the base once again, pulling it out. All at once, Tim's a little overwhelmed. John's so open, and it's for him.

“I'm gonna do something,” Tim says, setting the plug aside. John takes the toy and sets it on the table as Tim grabs at John's ass, spreading him open even more, pulling him towards him. John shifts back a bit and Tim licks him over with the flat width of his tongue, tasting lube.

“What are you doing?” John asks, looking over his shoulder at Tim with narrowed eyes.

“Shut up,” Tim says, face still in John's ass, mouthing at him, and John's hand grabs at the sheets.

“Fuck?” he says, pushing back as Tim licks into him, gasping. “ _Fuck_.” Tim can't help the laugh that slips out. “Shut up,” John says.

“ _You_ shut up,” Tim says, pulling John's hips back onto his mouth, and John moans sharply.

“No, you-” John goes to say, but Tim's working his mouth so well he seems to forget how to talk. He leans down into the bed, lifting his ass up, and Tim digs his nails into John's thighs as he's licking deeper into him, and John grabs at Tim's hand. “Fuck. _Fuck_.” Tim doesn't say anything, can't even think of taking his mouth off John, just lets John hold onto his wrist. Tim works his tongue in, and John opens up easily, his fingers tightening around Tim's arm, as if holding onto him for his life. Tim's free hand rests on John's back, watching him as he squirms under him, overwhelmed. “Tim,” John whines, catching his eye when he looks back over his shoulder.

“You alright?” Tim asks, lifting his head. Spit strings from his lip to John's ass and John tries to stifle a moan.

“Don't stop, please,” John begs, pulling at Tim's wrist. Tim smiles a bit and goes back to laving his tongue over John's ass and John whines, wanting more contact, wanting his tongue back inside him. “If you're gonna be fucking rude and tease me then just fuck me, you dickhead,” John says, flinging a pillow in Tim's direction. Tim gives John his best fake offended look and grabs the pillow, whacking John's side with it.

“Says the shithead who was sending me fucking butt pictures in class,” he says, smacking him with the pillow again. John laughs, grabbing at it and yanking it from Tim's hands.

“Fine,” he says. “Are we even?” Tim presses his lips together, furrows his brows at him.

“I guess,” Tim says. “Will you at least turn over so I can look at your collar while I fuck you?”

John doesn't say anything, just smiles as he rolls back over onto his back. Tim finishes undoing his jeans but doesn't bother taking them all the way off, just shoves them down on his hips and gets his cock out. John grabs at it, pulling him closer, and Tim pushes John's legs back, folding him over himself. John's bendy enough to hold his legs to his chest and Tim hilts himself slow, tries not to let it overwhelm him, but fucking John is never not overwhelming. The way John arches, his mouth falling open, the impossibly tight heat, and the weight of his being his little brother. Tim pushes the thought aside, holds John's legs back, and fucks him.

“Fucking finally,” John sighs, head falling back into the pillows. Tim reaches up to grab John's collar, pulling his head back up.

“Look at me,” Tim says, and John nods, letting Tim dick into him, his pace rough and quick, needy. John can't even moan – his mouth just falls open and he grabs at Tim's hands. “Good boy,” Tim says, and John nods quickly, moving his hips back in time to meet Tim in the middle. “My _slut_.” Tim grabs the word on the collar for emphasis, pulling John upright to kiss him.

“Yours,” John says against Tim's mouth, fingers winding in his hair and tugging at his scalp, kissing him heatedly, moaning into it. Tim flattens him back down into the bed, weighing him down with his own body, fucking him hurriedly, trying to keep an even pace but losing himself in how fucking good John is. “Tell me again,” John pants, never letting Tim pull away.

“You're mine,” Tim says, a hand reaching to clumsily work John's cock between them. John moans loudly, dicking up into Tim's fist. “Don't cum. You're mine so I get to decide when you cum. Okay?”

“Yes, fuck, okay,” John grits out, his hips unsure whether to buck up at Tim's hand or down on his cock. “Only when you say.”

“Good boy,” Tim says, letting go of John, and he whimpers, but doesn't complain. Tim's hips hit John's hard, his jeans slowly slipping down, and John reaches around to grab at Tim's ass, pulling him in closer, deeper. “Slut,” Tim remarks, and John just smiles, biting into his lip.

“Only yours,” John says, and Tim pushes his face in John's neck, mouths wet kisses there, and John squirms under him, his cock hard between them. “ _Ah_ , fuck,” he gasps. Tim rakes his teeth over John's throat and slams into him, feeling himself stiffen.

“Tell me where you want me to cum,” Tim says, lifting his head and pushing John's hair back out of his face. The question seems too much for John to handle at first, his mouth falling open and shutting again, teeth gritted. But he answers.

“Inside me,” John says, nails raking at his shoulders. “ _Please_.”

“Fuck, yes, okay,” Tim says quickly, and for a moment all he can hear is his hips hitting John's and John's little _ah ah ah_ noises in his ear. Tim's orgasm hits him hard; he feels John tighten around him as he spills inside him, over and over. He rides it out, sitting up enough to leave some space between their bodies. “Give me the plug,” Tim says.

“Why?” John asks, and Tim just looks at him.

“Because I'm going to put it back in your butt,” Tim says, “obviously.”

John realizes, then, that Tim wants to trap his cum inside him. Oh. It's visible on his face, and Tim laughs once, gesturing for the plug again. John grabs at it again, and Tim takes it, lifting John's hips as he pulls out, quickly replacing his cock with the glass toy. It's wider than he is, so he sees the stretch, and John purrs, happy to be full again. Tim presses the palm of his hand into the base of the plug, and John moans softly, letting Tim push it that little bit deeper.

“G'head, babe, get yourself off,” Tim says, and John grabs himself quickly. John gasps, pants, fucks his own hand and grinds into the pressure of Tim's palm holding the plug, visibly desperate, till he arches off the bed and cums. Hard. The first of it actually lands across John's face, the rest spilling across his chest and over his fingers.

“Ow,” John says, bringing his clean hand up to wipe at his eye.

“Did you just cum on your own face?” Tim asks.

“You made me cum in my own eye,” John says, punching Tim in the arm.

“I did _not_ ,” Tim says. “You got yourself off. Not my fault.”

“It's your fault,” John whines, wiping his hand on Tim's bed.

“You're washing my sheets now,” Tim says, gesturing to the obvious smear on his dark bedding.

“Am not,” John says, swatting at Tim, still rubbing his eye. “I'm blind. I'm never gonna see again.”

“Oh my god, you're fine,” Tim says, leaning down to mouth kisses at John's chest, licking up his mess. John still makes a grouchy noise, but doesn't say anything. Tim kisses John firmly. “You can't go blind from getting cum in your eye. Promise.”

“I hate you,” John says. Tim can't help laughing.

“I guess I'm a little sorry,” he says. “But honestly, you started it.”

“Will you at least snuggle me and pretend to feel bad?” John asks, blinking his eye a bunch of times. Tim brings his hand up to hold John still and get a look at it.

“It's a little red, but you'll live,” Tim says. He pats John's side. “I'm proud of you. Your first cumshot to the eye. Now roll over so I can big spoon.”

“You're fucking rude,” John says, but moves over anyway. Tim does his jeans back up and lays behind him, wrapping his arm around John's waist and pulling his back to his chest. Tim kisses John's back, just below the buckle on the collar.

“I hope you know I'm going to get you back for sending me dirty pictures in class and surprising me with the collar and the plug,” Tim says, lips still brushing against John's back.

“Mhmm,” John says, nodding. “I know.”

 


End file.
